


I was wondering if you believe in ghosts

by VulpesKorsak



Series: The ghost of the Dunwall cemetery [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Empress Emily Kaldwin, Ghosts, M/M, Past Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, Pre-Slash, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesKorsak/pseuds/VulpesKorsak
Summary: Corvo meets a ghost of a young man with black eyes. Surprisingly even for himself he is not afraid. He even feels sympathy for the lonely ghost.





	I was wondering if you believe in ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little ghost story.

**IN MEMORY OF**

**HER MAJESTY**

**JESSAMINE**

**KALDWIN**

**MOTHER TO EMILY,**

**EMPRESS TO US ALL**

 

These words on a modest gravestone in the Dunwall Cemetery are entirely covered with flowers. It’s been exactly seven years and one day since the much beloved empress passed away after a long, hard and unsuccessful battle with her own body.

She asked to be buried with her people as soon as she realized that it was a losing battle. Corvo tried to convince her otherwise, said she was strong enough to break through, but it was her body and of course she was right in the end. Right as always. Corvo still wishes she weren’t.

To this day people cover Jessamine’s grave in flowers once a year. Despite all the tension her way of ruling caused amongst the rich, to the common folk she was the best ruler they had in a couple centuries. 

But last night it stormed and now Corvo is staring at the flowers in disbelief. A tree in the castle garden got almost ripped out of the ground by the wind. And yet all the flowers are in the exact same positions they have been laid. Corvo is more than sure of that. He spent many hours here yesterday, telling Jessamine about what has happened in the country and how its people have been doing throughout the year and expressing his pride over their daughter’s success on the throne.

He was forced to go back to the castle by Emily herself, who came looking for him, saying that a storm was about to begin. And that was one hell of a storm. Corvo have seen quite a lot of them throughout his life, but this was one of the strongest, though fortunately it didn’t last more than one night.

Corvo does not know the names of these flowers but he knows that that tiny red flower was left by a little girl who wasn’t even born when Jessamine died. She looked so proud, because her parents let her bring a flower that she found “all by herself”. She put it right in the middle of the whole composition, on top of bigger bouquets.

And even this tiny flower wasn’t moved from its place.

The more Corvo looks the weirder it all feels to him. He can’t help but feel like there is not a single difference between what he was looking at yesterday and what he is looking at now. Not a single flower moved from its place.

He couldn’t finish his annual conversation with Jessamine yesterday. He calls it a conversation, but it really is a monologue. Emily says he talks more on that day than he talks during the rest of the year. He knows a Royal Protector has more important things to do than deliver speeches to a long dead woman, but he only allows himself that once per year. He visits her a couple more times throughout the year but only for a few minutes.

He would have stayed for at least two more hours yesterday if in weren’t for the storm. He promised Jessamine that he would come back in the morning.

Corvo blinks a few times and thinks that perhaps his attention to details is giving out. He is getting older and maybe his memory is becoming not as-

Cold.

Cold.

**Cold.**

He is freezing. He gasps for air. He is shivering. But it is over a moment later. Corvo jerks in surprise. Glances around himself.

He is used to cold ocean winds of Dunwall but something about this gust was odd. They are only this cold in winter. Not in the middle of summer. And he could swear he felt it… suck the air out of his lungs?

Something is off. Corvo’s trained senses are telling him. He turns around sharply. As soon as he does he hears a quiet sigh. A sigh from where he was looking a second ago.

He turns again, even quicker. And stops.

There is a person standing behind her grave, his hands crossed behind his back. It is a very young man. His eyes are half closed and from this angle they look completely black. He is watching Corvo in silence and Corvo is not sure what to say. This has never happened to him before. Even the worst guard couldn’t have missed a person directly in front of them.

Should he ask where he came from? Was he hiding? No. Corvo is not that old. He sure couldn’t miss somebody as noticeable as this guy. His dark hair is and black and white very old-fashioned clothing contrast starkly with his pale skin. Like a black crow just took a human form. He looks so… weird? Alien? 

_ “Otherworldly.” _ Comes to Corvo’s mind.

Another gust of wind blows by but this time there is nothing unusual about it. Besides the fact that even it is strong enough to blow the little red flower off it place into the nearby grass. The strange man smiles at Corvo lightly and bends down to pick it up. Still smiling he puts it back in its place. Smoothes the petal with the tip of his finger. And here the flower is again. Lying exactly the same way as it was before.

The man straightens his back and steps closer to Corvo- No. His feet are not touching the ground. He floats closer to Corvo, who has a sudden realization that his eyes really  **are** completely black… an old town legend of a hollow-eyed ghost of the Dunwall cemetery immediately comes to his mind. His body tenses automatically, but he does not move.

“Corvo.” The man says bowing his head, his voice as strange as everything else about him, though it certainly suits him. “Welcome back”

“Wha-” His mouth refuses to make anything sensible. “Hello?”

The stranger chuckles at his confusion.

Corvo thinks that it looks weirdly cute and wants to slap himself for this random thought but instead clears his throat.

“What- Who are you?” He finally gets in control of his voice.

“Who do  **you** think I am?” Curiosity and amusement in the floating man’s tone make Corvo feel a bit at ease.

“A ghost?” Corvo suggests, relaxing his muscles. His gut is telling him that the supposed ghost is not hostile, not deceiving. And his gut has saved him plenty of times, so he chooses to trust it. “The eyeless ghost of the Dunwall cemetery?”

“Ah, I was wondering if you believe in ghost.” He hums floating even closer, almost in Corvo’s arm-range.

“I really don’t but here you are.” The young man squints and grins at Corvo, who nods at the flowers on the grave. “You did that, ghost?”

“People used to call me the Outsider.” He turns his head. Corvo presumes he is looking at the flowers. He can’t tell for sure. He is not eyeless as the legends say. But his eyeballs are completely black.

_ So strange. _

Corvo thinks he can see vague shapes of his irises for a second when he looks closer. But then it’s gone. Completely black again. But then again maybe you shouldn’t completely believe your eyes when it comes to ghosts.

Corvo has heard about him a few times. A young man without eyes wearing dark clothes can be seen floating at the Dunwall cemetery at dawn and sometimes at night.

He is not native to Dunwall, the locals usually learn the legend from their parents or from their playmates when they are little. Emily told him one of the stories after learning it from her old governess. He remembers her eyes wide-open with fear and excitement. He heard some other variations discussed on the streets.

Some say his own father, an overseer, stabbed his eyes out and killed him for “indulging in the sin”, whatever that means. Sometimes Corvo thinks breathing is a sin according to these assholes. Thanks to Jessamine their grip on the empire has been notably loosened. And Emily is determined to not let this progress be erased.

Other legends refer to him as the Drowner. These say that he drowned in a river and by the time his body was pulled out of the water, his eyes were eaten by fish.

One version even makes out to be some sort of a small caliber graveyard deity, watching over the dead and the living with his undead eyes.

Whatever the case is, Corvo is mostly surprised that out of all ridiculously inconsistent Dunwall legends this one turned out to be true. There are far more believable stories out there and yet…

Corvo’s heart feels heavy inside all of a sudden. He doesn’t know which one of the versions is true, but they all make him feel bad for the gho- the Outsider. Despite his smile he looks somewhat melancholic. He looks into the depth of the darkness that is his eyes.

He is so young- He was so young when he died. Probably about Emily’s age right now. That thought makes Corvo both terrified and angry. He had his whole life ahead of him and it was taken from him.

“You react to seeing me in such a calm manner. And now you feel sorry for me.” It must be showing on his face. The Outsider frowns slightly. “People usually run away screaming and cursing. Sometimes come back with their holy symbols.”

“You don’t look threatening.” Corvo can’t help but answer.

“My dear Corvo… First you came here to you bury your mentor. So many years ago. Then your daughter’s governess. And then the love of your life.” Corvo blinks and he is gone. Next second he is standing weightlessly on top of her grave, looking down at it. “You came here so often the first year after that. Then I thought you stopped. And now I see you here only a couple times a year.”

“Are you always here?”

“When you are here, yes, Corvo.” He lifts his head. “I am sad to say, but when you tell her your stories, it is only I who can hear them.”

“I see.” Corvo sighs. “You’ve seen it all, huh? All the crying and rambling.”

“At even that one time you were drunk out of your mind.” Outsider huffs.

“I- I’m sorry for that.” Corvo’s cheeks are burning with partial memories of that night. He rarely drinks and when he does, it doesn’t mess with his head. But not that time.

“There is nothing wrong with crying on your beloved’s grave. And much more humiliating things have been done by folk here, believe me.” Once again he is gone in a blink, appearing right in front of Corvo. Looking him into the eyes, it seems. “Many people come here to grieve, Corvo. But there is something about you that I find... especially fascinating.”

“You are fascinated by people grieving?”

“Few that come here are not grieving. It’s a graveyard after all. I don’t have much choice but to look at sad people.” The Outsider chuckles softly.

“Right. Sorry.” Corvo really should take a step back, stop staring at him. But he can’t draw his eyes away from his face. There is no denial, this Outsider is quite beautiful. Especially for a ghost. Corvo always imagined him as more dead looking. All skin and bones and rugs. Like the men sick with the rat plague all those years ago. Or something of that sort. Creepy and ghoulish. But while he does not look like a normal human, he is not a monster either. His movements are graceful and chaotic at the same time. His skin looks cold like stone but his smile has a tone of warmth to it. He looks amused by Corvo’s presence, but he gets a feeling there is more to it than meets the eye.

“Rearranging the flowers doesn’t seem like a ghost thing to do.” Corvo needs to know even though the Outsider doesn’t seem too keen on answering his questions directly. “Do you do this all the time?”

“You promised to come back in the morning. I wanted you to continue your conversation as if the storm has not interrupted you.”

He must be so lonely here. No wonder watching some old man talk to himself for hours is amusing to him.

“Why talk to me now?”

“I-” Ghosts apparently can also have problems with finding the right words. He frowns. “You don’t show up often.” He gulps. Ghosts don’t need to gulp, do they? “It gets rather lonely here, so I thought…” He shuts his mouth before Corvo can hear the full answer.

The Outsider looks lost and confused. It makes him a lot more human. Corvo smiles at the thought that even ghosts can be shy at admitting that they need some company.

Is he even a ghost? According to legends they are scary and intangible. But he does not look scary at all, mysterious and weird - sure. And that expression of doubt on his face that makes him look so human also makes Corvo wonder if he really is intangible.

He brings his hand up slowly anticipating it going right through the Outsider but instead he feel cold smooth skin of his cheek under his fingers. 

The Outsider flinches, his black eyes fly open. Corvo jerk his hand away. They stare each other in the eyes and after a few moments Corvo has to blink.

The ghost is gone.

He waits for a while, looks around but he does not show up anywhere again.

Corvo knows he will not be able to concentrate on delivering her the rest of the news today. He can’t even remember half of the stuff he was going to tell her about. He is not even sure he will be able to think about anything but the eyeless ghost any time soon.

“I will come back tomorrow.” He announces to Jess- who can’t hear him… he announces to the Outsider who he is sure is still listening. He steal the last glance at the tiny red flower on the grave before turning away from it and heading back to the castle.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you a lot for reading, kudoing and commenting!  
> The idea of Ghost!Outsider has been in my head for a while. I will probably write a sequel or two for it, if anyone is insterested.


End file.
